Page 74 of Cross the Line

“Like what?”

“Anything,” Alec snaps, afraid he might cry again. He’s so nauseous and the ground is moving, literally, while Theo continues to drive. He needs to bite or chew on something. Right now.

He feels the brush of Theo’s cotton shirt on his belly as Theo leans over him, digging around in the glove compartment until he finds a silicone reusable straw neatly folded in a little stainless carrying case. He passes it to Alec, who breathes deeply through his nose before biting the straw between his teeth.

Theo drives, Alec chews, and no one talks. By the time they make it to Theo’s house, there are teeth marks embedded in the silicone and Alec isn’t sure he ever wants to get in a car again. Driving is the worst. Or maybe drinking is the worst. Or both.

As soon as Theo turns off the engine, Alec throws the door open, rolling out of the car with a painful thud and dragging himself to the grass where he flops belly down. Theo’s sprinklers must’ve been on recently because the grass is wet, cold against his flushed skin and soaking his jeans.

“Are you ok?”

“Fucking great,” Alec mumbles.

“Why are you in the grass?”

That seems like a stupid question to Alec, so he doesn’t bother dignifying it with an answer, instead lifting himself onto his hands and knees and making it about a foot before collapsing back down again. He gets grass in his mouth, which is a great companion to the taste of puke still lingering. Alec’s a real fucking catch tonight.

“Do you need me to carry you inside?”

“No,” Alec snaps automatically, rolling onto his back. He’s met with Theo’s kind eyes and something in him shatters beyond repair. “Maybe.”

“Come on, then,” Theo says, squatting down beside Alec. His pants are so tight it looks like his thighs might split them, the smallest hint of a belly hanging over his jeans. His strong arms move under Alec to pick him up and cradle him close for the second time tonight.

“Why is this happening to me?” Alec wails, flinging his head back pitifully.

“You drank enough for someone twice your size,” Theo answers, far too honest for Alec’s current state of inebriation.

With a grunt, Alec lets his head fall onto Theo’s shoulder. The top two buttons of Theo’s shirt are undone and if Alec moved his mouth a bit he might be able to taste him, might feel some of Theo’s pale skin beneath his own, or the brush of chest hair against his lips.

“You’re not going to puke on me, are you?”

Shame and embarrassment well up in Alec like a fucking dam and he shakes his head, pressing his face into Theo’s neck and trying not to break down. This is why he doesn’t drink. He can get wild and have fun sober. Drunk Alec isn’t just messy, he’s pathetic, needy and emotional. Every single desire he’s ever had has been unearthed and laid on display. He feels exposed, raw, and so close to falling apart.

“We need to get you lying down.”

“Shower,” Alec grunts.

“Can you handle a shower?”

“M’not a fucking baby.”

“Alright, alright,” Theo says, his tone making it clear he’s worried Alec might snap. Newsflash, he might. “Let's just get you inside. I can help you shower and?—”

“I don’t need help,” Alec interjects, not sure why he’s being so stubborn. For some reason it seems like a good idea, but so does kissing Theo, and he’s at least coherent enough to know that would ruin everything, but not enough to stop himself from refusing help he desperately wants.

There is no relief when Theo doesn’t argue, only the foreboding sense that maybe this time Alec has found Theo’s limit. Everyone always tells him he’s a lot to handle. Too fidgety, too loud, too talkative, too cocky, too competitive, too honest. You name it and Alec does it to the extreme. Drinking only magnifies that, which is why Alec’s only ever had a few drinks. He’s never even been drunk before, never wanted to get that out of control or find out who can’t handle him.

Somehow, Theo manages to get the front door unlocked without dropping Alec. Once the door swings open, Theo carries him into the living room and lowers Alec down to a standing position beside the couch.

“Thanks,” Alec mumbles, too out of it to try and check if Theo watches him stumble his way through the darkened living room. Somehow, his legs feel even shakier than before, and he just barely makes it across the living room. It’s only sheer stubbornness and muscle memory that get him down the long hallway to the bathroom. More than once he nearly falls, but Theo hasn’t followed Alec, letting him make his own way. Theo did exactly what Alec asked, so why does that make Alec so miserable? With a choked off sob, Alec scrubs at his face and falls against the bathroom wall with a loud crash.

“Alec?” Theo yells.

“M’fine,” Alec lies, his hands shaking as he slams the door behind him and collapses against it. His hands continue to shake as flicks on the light, immediately wishing he hadn’t. The illumination hurts his eyes, like a knife to his throbbing head. He slaps the light off before fumbling his way towards the shower in the dark. He tugs the shower curtain open and then tries to undo his jeans, nearly screaming when the button won’t go through the hole. He tries three more times, but his vision is blurry and his hands won’t stop trembling.

“Fuck,” Alec grunts, wishing he could rip the jeans off.

In hindsight, what he should’ve done was take Theo up on his offer, even if it would’ve robbed Alec of all of his self respect. At least then Theo would be here with him to stop the rising tide of melancholy. Yet another reason Alec shouldn’t drink; it makes him sad. Other people like Alec because he’s happy. Right now he is not happy, and he can’t imagine anyone else would want to be around him like this when he doesn’t even want to be around himself.

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